


Dirty Laundry

by lipservice (thescariestadverbs)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescariestadverbs/pseuds/lipservice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re probably as fascinated with the laundry commercial as I am with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Laundry

You’re quiet. You’re always quiet. I find it equally fascinating and frustrating that you are able to sit there, content, without speaking a word for hours. I put the TV on hours ago to fill the silence but I can’t seem to focus on it. You, however, are sitting beside me on the bed. Your head is cocked a bit to the right as you watch. You’re probably as fascinated with the laundry commercial as I am with you. 

Of course, this is when you choose to speak. About a fucking laundry commercial. “You know what I find interesting about this? People want their laundry to smell like flowers or meadows. But they buy laundry scented air fresheners for their cars and houses. Why would you want your laundry to smell like outside and your car to smell like laundry?” I could kill you. Really kill you. Sometimes. 

“Women are weird,” I mutter. 

“I suppose they just want their spaces to smell clean. Besides, it’s not like you can smell laundry soap on your clothes for long,” you carry on, oblivious to me, “Yours always smell like cologne. Or sweat.” Or dirt and blood really. It’s not like I have a chance to wash my clothes very often. I usually just buy new ones. There are a lot of things we deal with that don’t wash out so well. The proverbial blood on my hands just doesn’t bleach out of cotton. “You seem upset.”

I could kill you. Really. But sometimes being happy is better than being right. God, where did I even hear that? A fucking Hallmark commercial? I shake my head and rest my head on your shoulder. “Just tired,” I hear myself say. Just another excuse piled up on an excuse for life really. 

“We could have sex if you want,” you respond so matter-of-factly I want to laugh. I can feel the bile in my throat rising. The suggestion is innocent enough, and clearly the art of foreplay has been lost on some people, and really you are probably serious. 

I used to kid myself with the idea of being perfectly satisfied with sexual encounters. Relationships are messy, draining and really get in the way. This life isn’t meant for anything long term. Because this life isn’t long term. Of course, you changed all that didn’t you? The print of your hand is gone from my shoulder but not my soul. 

I think you were surprised by how enjoyable sex really could be. Well, it’s not really designed to be a spectator sport. And it’s not like you were able to experience the physical reaction when you observed it. And to be honest, I don’t think either of us really expected this would happen. You were just standing close, too close, and I was overwhelmed by your sight and your scent and before I even knew what was happening my hand was wrapped around the back of your neck and I was kissing you. That was surprisingly pleasant you said. I probably could have killed you then too. You drive me so fucking crazy. Just the taste of you and I was rock hard and wanting more. 

I told myself it made sense. Living on the road, always being around each other, stuck in these stressful and tense situations. We needed an outlet. And it is a fucking good one. We didn’t talk about it at first. We probably should have. We probably shouldn’t have slept in the same bed after. It wasn’t supposed to turn into this. 

Now I miss you when you aren’t here. I’m mad when you are. I want to yell at you and kiss you and slap you and fuck you and just climb into bed and feel you beside me. I want to cry. And scream. And I really don’t like any of this. This was supposed to be a way of relaxing and now it has me so wound up I can’t breathe. 

You are staring at me blankly, waiting for me to answer you. Your endless patience irritates me. “We don’t have to have sex, Dean,” I hate the way you say it, “It was just a suggestion.” You are so utterly calm. I could kill you. 

“It’s not that,” I sigh, “It’s just…” It’s just what? Your lack of emotional response, emotional tie to this relationship is making me crazy? I want to think that for a moment you love me? That I love you? That all of this is just a nightmare? That my brother doesn’t think I’m batfuckingshit crazy because I need a drink just to get out of bed when you aren’t here? That I know you don’t love me because anyone who ever has is fucking dead? That maybe you don’t know how to love?  
Maybe I am batfuckingshit crazy. 

“You’re upset with me.” You observe, “You are unhappy with our arrangement?” 

“I don’t want to be.” I sit on the edge of the bed and rest my head in my hands. 

You sit beside me, “I understand the physical need we have developed and how my body responds to yours. I think you are upset with our lack of emotional connection? Or perhaps, my lack of emotional connection?” Am I a fucking open book?

You sigh at my silence, “It’s not that I don’t have a connection to you. I just don’t seem to know how to express it other than physically.” You place a hand gently on my shoulder, “I’m willing to learn. But you have to be patient with me. I have never had a need to indulge in human emotions until now. It’s going to take time. And I can’t promise you will see what you want to see.” 

You touch my chin and tilt my face towards you. You lean in and kiss me with such reverence I can feel it burning at my soul. You lay me down slowly, kissing my neck. Pulling at my shirt. You are moving slowly and tenderly. In a way we have never moved together before. My body is yearning for more.

I will be happy with anything that you give me, to be honest. I’m so tired of standing at the edge of this world alone. I will find a way to be happy with it so you will stay here with me. Maybe you could learn to love me.

-lipservice


End file.
